...but the poll on my FP page had like 98% that said this blog would be useful. Hmm. Does anyone even come here, I wonder?

Hi.

Sorry, I haven't updated here for quite a while. I've been writing again, but not really receiving reviews. So I guess I haven't really seen the point in updating this. But I guess... whatever.

Maybe someone reads this shit. Maybe someone actually reads my poetry.

The important points of my life that you need to know:
1. I found a guy.
2. His name is Joe.
3. I like him too much.
4. I write poetry about him now.
5. I'm afraid of him seeing my poetry about him.
6. I like the beach a lot.
7. & that's where I'm going now.

-stix-

I'm just sitting around remembering him... when I remember that I have one of his t-shirts upstairs. And that his t-shirt is absolutely dripping with his smell. I went so, so long without giving in and breathing in his scent. But then I couldn't take it anymore, and I had to. I buried my face in the fabric of his shirt. It smells so goddamn good.

Which brought me back to the last night that I actually had hope for the two of us. When I thought I could be patient. The night that I went to his house for no good reason and found him in his room, smoking with April. (I think they were smoking pot. It didn't smell like cigarette smoke.) I made him come out and talk to me. He was rather sullen, and when he did actually look at me, he glared at me. And then I remembered the few seconds that I sat close to him, begging him, pleading with him, asking him over and over to give me the one last chance, telling him he owed it to me after all that we had been through, and I could smell him. I could smell the rich scent of his deoderant, the smell of the smoke, and the soft almost invisible smell that always lingers on his skin. I kissed his forehead. I kissed his hair. It smelled faintly of smoke. (It smelled good.)

And then, the other day in class, I swear, I could smell him sitting in front of me. I could smell the faint odor of the smoke, and I wanted to bathe myself in it. It smelled so, so, so good.

Which brings me to the whole thing about him smoking pot...
...It was never that I didn't approve of him smoking pot. It was more that I'm jealous because he can do something like that. I can't. I'll never be able to. I'm far too afraid of my parents and the police and the rumors. (But somewhere inside of me, I was always hoping that he'd get me drunk and that he'd ask me to come to his parties and that he'd want to do stupid things with me, but he never did.)

He always thought I was like this perfect little fucking princess, and I wish I had been able to show him that I'm not. Well, that I don't want to be the prissy princess anymore. I want to have fun, I want to do things that I've never done. I actually do want to drink, and suddenly I actually really do want to try pot, if only just once.

But mostly I just want Mitch back in my life... & I don't care what lengths I'd have to go to.

I personally love this piece. It's choppy, it doesn't flow, but it's so full of the fear and everything else I was feeling for that entire month (that I still feel now... but I've gotten better at hiding it). It's so full of every emotion that I was afraid to admit to feeling. It's kind of written to him (Mitchell, I mean), but at the same time it's one that isn't personal at all. It's one that I want everyone that has been in my place to be able to feel and relate to.

Our love did once live & breathe, or so I thought. I was so happy with him, but in the end, he didn't want me. (I wasn't good enough.)

I'm still trying to convince myself that I don't need him and that I can live without him and that I can keep breathing without him. ...But I don't believe it.

You know what the really horrible thing is?

"I love you. I never even believed in love before." <-- Lie. He never loved me.

I just whipped out my iPod when I got home from his house at like, I don't know, 10:30 in the morning on Saturday. I started writing, feeling my heart pulsing, remembering the way my chest constricted when he wouldn't even look at me, and barely inaudibly he said "I think we should spend some time apart." And in that instant, suddenly, all I could hear was Ocean Avenue and Only One and Vermillion and every other fucking love song I've ever cried to in my life, and I wanted him to hold me, to hug me, to kiss me, to keep me...

...but he insisted we should spend some time apart.

And for some reason, I just can't stay away from. Even after finding out that he was cheating on me, lying to me about it the entire time, getting caught up in all of his lies, and yet, for some stupid reason, I still believe that he can change, that he will change (for me). I love him.

I keep trying to talk to him and I keep telling him that I want him to talk to me, but he never has anything to say. Sometimes, when he looks at me, I want to believe that he did love me (that he does love me), but I know I shouldn't.

I know I should just let this go and that I'm just setting myself up to get hurt, but I don't know what else to do. I love him. I know that he lied to me and that he cheated on me and that he used me, but for some reason I find that almost forgiveable. Maybe it's because never in a million years did I ever imagine something like this could possibly happen to me. Maybe it's because he promised me so many times that he'd never do it to me (lies. He's a compulsive liar).

I knew for six weeks. I've known since 31 January that he was doing something he shouldn't be doing, but I thought I was being paranoid and overly protective, when I should have just gone with my fear and confronted him. Maybe if I had asked him about it before it was completely obvious, he would have had second thoughts about it and just stopped it. She tried to break it off, but he wouldn't let her. That's the worst part. He had me, but I wasn't enough. I wasn't good enough, I was never enough for him. When I asked him if it was worth it... he didn't really answer me. He told me I'm more than good enough, but I don't know if I can believe him. I want to give him another chance. I wish he'd just ask for another chance.

He never will.

Behind My Smile
My braces came off today. My orthodontic procedure is gonig to be more complicated than most of my friends' because I'm going to get an implant to replace a tooth that I've been missing since birth because of a genetic defect that caused me (and my brother John) to never grow that particular adult tooth. So my braces coming off was a pretty big deal.

My retainer was laying on my tray at lunch today when someone made the comment that it was quite small--that my mouth must be tiny! Devon looked over at me and said "holy shit, why didn't you tell me?" I just replied, "I didn't think anyone would care."

But the truth is more complicated. No, I didn't think anyone would care, but also... I wanted him to care. I wanted him to be excited for me. But I didn't tell him because I didn't think I could deal with him actually caring about me again when since October I've wanted anything but him to outwardly show emoition towards me because, even though no one really knows this, I think I'm still in love with him.

He was my best friend when we broke up, and I lost that.

And now he's going out with Cassie.

The only person that I ever loved, that ever loved me, that ever cared about me, that ever meant anything to me. My very best friend in all of the world and the person I'll never stop loving and never, ever, in a million fucking years, stop caring about.

And neither of them care about me.

STIX
.mate.feed.kill.repeat.
18 December 1992.
i do not capitalize when i write poetry.


Family.
Friends.
Mitch.
Boys.
Pretty girls.
A drug-free world.
Kisses on the forehead.
Slipknot, Metallica, & Mozart.
Hugs.
Touch&beTouched.
Love&beLoved.

shh, i'm always here for you.


February 2009
March 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
July 2010
November 2010



layout: +
fonts: +
brushes: + +
image: +